Bittersweet
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: Danny is an average guy working at Starbucks, who just so happens to have a crappy memory. Tom is an average guy who just-so-happens to buy Starbucks every day. Why is Tom the only name that Danny can remember? Flones, Pudd, oneshot, swearing. Written especially for the wonderful kbeto.


**This is dedicated to the gorgeous kbeto, who is sad because people are leaving the fandom. Also, a message to Marvin Fletcher and xxPUDDxx – you two should totally get accounts and write! You've both been around for a while and leave reviews all the time! So yes, coffee shop AU, Flones, Pudd.**

* * *

"Hey, Tom, what can I get you?" The curly haired man asked with a grin as he swiped the damp cloth across the marble surface between him and the customer. Tom was a regular, probably the most regular regular they had as he came twice a day without fail, but as he liked everything on the Starbuck's menu, he would have something different each day, rotating through the menu.

"Can I have a grande chai latte, please, Danny?" Tom replied. He was a fairly small man of medium built, with spiky bleach-blonde hair and warm brown eyes like the coffee he drank.

"Of course, mate." Danny made the drink quickly, before asking his regular for the money owed and sorting out his change deftly.

"Thanks, dude."

The two men, both in their early twenties, held eye contact for a brief moment as Tom took his first long sip from his mug. The next customer ordered a latte to go.

"Right – that's for Mark, isn't it?" Danny asked, starting to write the name on the plastic cup.

"Matthew!" the man replied. "Jeez, Danny, I come here every day!"

Danny laughed. "Sorry, man. I'm forgetful."

* * *

A few weeks later, Tom started arriving with two other blokes: one who was only nineteen or twenty with blondey-brown hair (who also very nearly got banned on his first visit when a cricket jumped out of his man-bag and got stuck in one of the coffee pipes) and the other only a year or so younger than Tom with fairly impressive muscles and tufty brown hair.

"Hey, Tom. What can I get you and your gorgeous friends?" Danny asked with a wink. Tom ordered for himself, and then the other two, on the go for a change.

"Going somewhere special?" Danny asked conversationally.

"No – I just promised I'd show them around the music studio before their first day. I managed to get them jobs there, so you'll see them pretty often. That's Dougie, and that's Harry."

Danny nodded as he passed over the three drinks. "Thanks." he said, though he wasn't quite sure why.

* * *

For several weeks, Tom would attend twice a day with Dougie and Harry.

"Isn't it weird?" Harry asked one day, once they were out of Danny's earshot.

"What?" Tom asked, absent-mindedly licking a stray curl of cream from his fingertip.

"He remembers your name, but never ours – he wrote David and Harold on our cups." Harry replied, turning his plastic cup so that Tom could see the name.

"I've been going there a lot longer, mate. Danny's served me for two, three years."

However, Harry's words lingered in Tom's mind for a while. Every day, Danny would fail to remember Dougie and Harry's names, either calling them some name similar to their own or blushingly asking them. Tom, however, he never forget. Occasionally he would jokingly write 'Thomas' or 'Tommy' or on one memorable occasion 'Tom-who-never-orders-the-same-thing-twice-and-is- a-pain-in-the-arse'.

* * *

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you remember my name?"

Danny looked up from the hot milk pipe, his hand steady on the pressure button. "You what?"

"You remember my name. You don't remember anyone else's, just me. Dougie and Harry have come here twice a day for almost a year and you still don't remember their names?"

Danny shrugged. "I don't know." However, the pinkness that was delicately flooding across his freckled cheeks told Tom otherwise.

"Listen, Danny, I'd like to know you better."

Danny opened his mouth as if to reply, before suddenly yanking his hand away from the coffee machine and shouting, "Shit! Shit! Fuck tits balls shit!"

Tom glanced at his hand: the hot milk had overflowed due to Tom's distraction and had burnt Danny's hand horribly. "You need to go to A&E." Tom astutely pointed out. "That's a bad burn."

"I'm on shift, though..."

"I can drive you, mate. Come on."

Danny followed Tom out of the small, warm shop and down to the crappy little Mini that Tom drove to work in every day (usually accompanied by Dougie and Harry squashed up together in the backseat, chatting alternately about the day of work ahead and their sex life). Tom shoved Danny into the passenger seat, before sitting in the driver's seat himself. Tears were rolling down Danny's cheek as the burn on his hand grew redder and more inflamed. Before Tom began to drive, he felt in the glovebox for a moment before producing a can of energy drink, a bottle of water and a cloth.

"Soak the cloth in water and press it against the burn, and hold the can against that. Thank god I had the cooler installation." Tom instructed. Danny gave a little grateful grunt.

* * *

"Oh god, it hurts..." Danny moaned, drawing his legs up. The burn had been treated (Tom was congratulated for his fast thinking: apparently, if the burn had been left any longer, Danny might have had to have some of the skin removed surgically because of how badly burnt it was) but now they were bandaging it.

"Don't worry, mate, it'll be okay." Tom soothingly told him, awkwardly stroking the slightly younger man's arm.

"Tom, it hurts so much..." as the nurse suddenly moved his hand, he let out a scream that jerked Tom's stomach. Tom knew immediately what he had to do, even if just to stop the screaming. Leaning off of his chair, he darted forwards and pressed his lips against Danny's, kissing with an odd intensity he never had before. A tiny, surprised moan escaped Danny's lips, but soon he was kissing Tom back with the longing that had been within him ever since he first laid eyes on the man. Tom only pulled away when he heard the nurse laugh and say,

"It's done now."

Danny immediately pulled him back again.

* * *

Sometimes, couples will have a special object or song. For example, Dougie and Harry's special object was the jumper that Harry had been wearing the day they met, which still bore the bright red stain from where Dougie splashed soup all down him. For Danny and Tom, it was coffee. The cuts of bitter instant swallowed down early in the mornings, the scent of freshly ground beans, the elaborate drinks full of colour and flavour that Danny had learnt in his time in Starbucks. The smell of coffee, the taste of coffee...coffee was their thing. After all, without coffee the brunette coffee-making guitarist and the blonde singer may never have met.


End file.
